


I don’t want to live without you (I’m not ready)

by niallerisababe



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bottom!Harry, Brain Cancer, Fic Exchange, Fluff, Harry-centric, Louis’s POV, Love, M/M, Romance, Sick!Harry, Smut, glioblastoma, idk what to tag without giving stuff away, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, okay that’s all I’m gonna say, the Ziam is a small side thing tbh, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallerisababe/pseuds/niallerisababe
Summary: Louis watches as Harry withers away in front of him, and he holds on to every precious moment they have left, because soon Harry will be gone and Louis will be alone and he doesn’t know if he can handle that.





	I don’t want to live without you (I’m not ready)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Karin1232](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karin1232/gifts).



> Title and lyrics from the song “Without You” by for KING & COUNTRY. 
> 
> For Karin1232. I hope you like it :) xx

_.....What do you do when you don't get better?......_

"It's not helping," Harry tiredly informs Louis one night at their dining room table. He's slouched in his favourite old stuffed blue chair, fingers pressed to his temples, looking utterly exhausted.

Louis immediately stops stirring the spaghetti in the pot on the stove, instead turning all his attention to his husband of fourteen months. "What do you mean, babe?"

"The surgeries," Harry expounds, "they're not helping at all. Removing tiny chunks of the massive tumor in my brain isn't helping."

Louis is a bit shaken by the tone of utter defeat in Harry's voice. Harry has been fighting the brain cancer for nearly five months now, and the doctors say that if he isn't getting better, he's almost at the end of the life expectancy for glioblastoma patients. That doesn't necessarily mean that Louis is ready to let go of Harry yet, though, and Harry hasn't seemed like he's ready to let go yet either. He's been steadily fighting it and has always seemed optimistic, up until now.

"Babe, no, they're helping, even if you can't feel it, promise," he rushes to reassure Harry, but Harry just shakes his head.

"No, Lou. I don't think so. I think.....I think maybe it's time we stop trying."

The words are soft, but they shake Louis to his core. The shock he feels must be evident on his face, because Harry quickly adds, "I'm not ready to let go, and I know you aren't, either, but I think it's time. I just.....I feel like it's time."

Louis resists the urge to cling to Harry and beg him to stay, to not leave him, to hang in for a while longer because Louis will always cling to a hope no matter how false. Instead, he gives a short jerk of his head and chokes out, "Okay, Hazza. If that's what you want," and turns back to his spaghetti.

Harry breathes out a soft sigh, and is quiet, so that's that.

It isn't mentioned again.

_.....strong arms get too weak to hold him......_

Some days are bad, where Harry can barely function because of the pounding in his head and the headache that never seems to go away. Those days, he doesn't move from bed. He doesn't talk, or sing, or smile, or laugh. It's like he's alive but not at the same time. Those days kill Louis, especially when he remembers first meeting Harry on X-Factor and how full of life he was. Now, looking at the dying boy lying in their bedroom, the months before the tumor began growing seem so surreal. This new Harry, the helpless, constantly in pain one, is Louis's new reality.

Some days are good, although they are rare. Some days, Harry can get down the stairs without Louis having to carry him, and he can crack cheesy jokes and laugh like he's not dying. He can respond when Louis makes love to him in their bedroom, and he can sing in the shower, and no one on the street looking at him would be able to tell that he is dying. Louis stores up those days in this heart and treasures them even as he gently manhandles Harry, pressing him against the wall and tickling him and jumping in his arms.

One day later that summer, when he goes to jump into Harry's arms, Harry stops him with a pained grimace and a flush, murmuring, looking embarrassed, "Lou, I.....I can't. I just.....I'm afraid I'm gonna drop you."

Louis snorts at the ridiculous thought. Harry has never dropped him once in all his years of holding and carrying Louis, and Louis just can't imagine him beginning now. "Haz, you've never dropped me once. Why would you start now?"

Harry looks even more embarrassed, and he whispers, "Louis......this morning, when I was getting myself something to drink while you were in the shower.......I had to drink a glass of tap water because I couldn't lift the gallon of milk in the fridge. I, um......I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."

Louis gapes at Harry, feeling outraged. He is Harry's primary care provider and his partner; it's his right to know any new decline in Harry's health. "Harry, you can't just not tell me stuff! How am I supposed to properly take care of you if I don't know what's going on with your health?"

Harry hangs his head, looking ashamed. "'m sorry. It won't happen again."

Louis takes a deep breath, reminding himself of how off Harry's emotions have been since he started taking the new pain medication the doctor prescribed.

"It's okay, love, just don't let it happen again," he says eventually, holding out his arms. "Now, c'mere."

Harry doesn't hesitate to fall into Louis's outstretched arms, and Louis holds Harry close and presses a kiss to his cheek, feeling just how thin Harry has gotten. Suddenly it doesn't seem too far-fetched that Harry's strength is declining as well, and as he gently cradles the younger boy close, he vows that instead of Harry's strong arms always being there for him, his arms will be there for Harry.

_.....oh God, give me just enough strength to make it through......_

To Harry's credit, even after the 'talk' that they had at the beginning of the summer, he continues to fight for Louis's sake. He takes all of his medications, and goes to the doctor, and lets Louis fawn over him. Louis questions this new behaviour as Harry had seemed so keen on just letting go and letting nature take its course, but he's also relieved that he'll get Harry a while longer, at least, so he doesn't say anything.

He and Harry go through their days pretending everything is okay when they can, and Louis is satisfied until one day he walks into the living room after a recording session and finds Harry curled up on the couch, sobbing into a pillow. He immediately drops the car keys on the floor and rushes to his side, wrapping his arms around Harry and questioning, "Harry, babe, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Harry hiccups, then he starts crying even harder, his whole body shaking in Louis's arms.

Louis is baffled and confused, and he rubs Harry's back and asks, "For what? You've nothing to be sorry for, love, nothing."

"I can't be strong for you," Harry whimpers, and Louis feels another crack form in his heart as he gazes at the tear-streaked, miserable, beautiful mess that is his husband.

"Oh, Harry, babe, that's not.....you don't need to be sorry for that, baby, stop crying," Louis gently reassures him, tugging Harry into his lap.

Harry buries his flushed face in the crook of Louis's neck and sniffles in response, more tears slipping down his cheeks and onto Louis's shoulder. Louis doesn't mind, though, and he holds Harry close, murmuring soothing nonsense into his ear until he has calmed down. Only when he thinks Harry won't completely break down again does he dare ask, "What brought that on, babe?"

Harry's eyes fill with tears again, and he whispers, "I can barely do anything for you, and you do everything for me, and I'm gonna die soon and leave you here......and I feel so guilty, and I'm so sorry...."

"You can't help it, Harry," Louis tells him firmly. "You didn't choose to get brain cancer, and you didn't choose to suffer, and you didn't choose to die. I love you, baby, and that's why I'm happy to be doing all this stuff for you. You don't need to be sorry."

"Okay," Harry sniffles, cuddling closer to Louis, and Louis keeps Harry secure in his arms, never wanting to let go.

_.....sleepless, this madness is walking me out to the ledge.....it stands there beside me, shivering, out on the edge. Oh God, all I ask is for a little relief....._

One night, Louis wakes up around midnight. He automatically reaches out for Harry, seeking his husband's warmth, but finds only a cool mattress. He is instantly wide awake, sitting up in bed, looking around the moonlit room for Harry, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees his familiar, too-thin form standing outside on the small balcony of their flat.

Sliding out of bed, Louis pads outside, slipping an arm around Harry's waist to alert him to his presence. "What're you doing, love?" he asks quietly, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. He feels Harry tense at the question, and waits patiently for a reply.

After a few moments, Harry sighs and says, "I just.....sometimes, I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just end it all.....before it can end me. Like, dying on my own terms, y'know?"

Louis's breath catches in his throat at what Harry is implying, and he silently thanks God that he woke up and joined Harry out here, because if not, in the morning he might have found his husband's body four stories below on the ground, lifeless.

"Mostly, I just couldn't sleep," Harry adds a bit lamely. "Been having trouble lately, and I felt okay enough to come out here, and seeing the stars helped....."

His voice trails off, as if he realises that the damage has been done and he has already revealed his real reason for being outside, so any attempt to cover it up is futile.

Louis just nods, his arm tightening around Harry. "Okay, babe. Just......next time, wake me up, yeah? I'm always here for you."

"Okay," Harry quietly agrees, and Louis gives him a suggestive smile.

"If you want, we can go back inside and I could help you get tired enough to sleep," he offers, and Harry lets himself be tugged back inside.

  
Louis gently presses Harry into the mattress, and Harry lifts his hips just enough to allow Louis to tug his boxers off.

  
“I’ve got you, baby,” Louis whispers, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek, then his neck, then his chest, creating a trail of kisses leading down to where Harry’s hard cock is lying against his stomach. He gently mouths at Harry’s slit, and Harry moans, sliding his hands into Louis’s hair and tugging slightly.

Louis takes Harry completely into his mouth, stroking his tongue along the slick skin of his cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucking the way he knows Harry likes.

“Louis—I’m—I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, please stop, I want you to fuck me,” Harry gasps, his fingers digging into Louis’s scalp.

Louis pulls off Harry’s cock, fumbling around for the lube beside the bed. He thoroughly slicks up three of his fingers before carefully stroking one along Harry’s tight hole, Harry whining indignantly at Louis’s teasing.

“Louis,” he moans as Louis inserts his index finger into the tight ring of muscle, carefully working it in and out. “Louis, more, please.”

“Okay, baby, whatever you want,” Louis murmurs, sliding another finger in next to the first one, scissoring Harry open. Harry arches his back slightly and wiggles his hips, forcing Louis’s fingers deeper, letting out a strangled cry of pleasure when Louis strokes his prostate.

“Louis, I’m ready,” Harry begs, but Louis shakes his head.

“One more finger, then I’ll fuck you,” he promises, sliding his ring finger into Harry’s hole, twisting his fingers as Harry clenches around them. After a moment, he pulls them out, pouring more lube onto his hand and slicking up his cock. Carefully aligning himself against Harry’s hole, he slowly pushes in, moaning as he bottoms out. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, Louis more than willing but Harry not physically capable of handling it.

Louis fucks into Harry with long, slow thrusts, leaning forward to press his lips to Harry’s. “Taking me so good, baby,” he murmurs, and Harry whimpers, curling an arm around Louis’s neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

Harry doesn’t last that long, and honestly, neither does Louis. He comes into Harry with a moan, Harry’s hole clenching around his cock as his orgasm sets off Louis’s own. Harry drops his head back onto the blankets with a sigh of contentment.

Louis slowly pulls out of Harry, sliding off the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. He wets a washrag with warm water and cleans Harry up—Harry’s already fallen asleep, so Louis does his best not to wake him, tossing the rag into the laundry hamper and falling into bed beside his husband.

Harry never mentions suicide again.

_......I'm not ready to live without you, so let's dance a little, laugh a little, hope a little more....._

It's autumn, and as the leaves wither and die, falling from the trees to the ground, Louis sees Harry begin to wilt as the final remnants of life begin to drain from his body. There's no more good days, only bad days, but Louis vows to make the most of them anyway. He stays home with Harry, holding him, stroking his hair and kissing him. Harry responds as best he can, occasionally lifting his head to return a kiss or shifting around so he can better tuck himself into Louis's side.

Around Thanksgiving, Harry rallies. He's more coherent, enough so to take short walks in the park and take a shower by himself. Louis feels a spark of hope alight in his chest that maybe Harry will make it, but at the same time he knows better than to get his hopes up, so when Harry is better, he makes as much use of the time as he can.

He bakes cookies with Harry, making fun of him when he insists that the dough is actually better than the cookies. Louis secretly agrees with Harry, but for now, he just teases him and watches as Harry's cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyes crinkle at the corners with embarrassment.  
He invites the rest of the lads over, and Niall brings helium and balloons and Nerf guns, creating a mad chaos that has Zayn skidding after him, Liam picking up the trail he leaves behind, Harry curled up on the couch, a giggling mess, and Louis fondly watching Harry, oblivious to the mess Niall was making. Louis counts that as one of their best days, because right after that, Harry's health begins declining again.

Louis finds Harry in the kitchen, with a puddle of blood dripping from the counter onto the floor. There's a bloody knife sitting next to a chopping board of half-sliced carrots, and Harry is staring dumbly at the bloody cut on his palm.

"It didn't hurt," Harry tells Louis, just before he crumples to the floor. Louis immediately crouches next to him, shaking him frantically, relief coursing through him when Harry responds weakly, "Sorry, my legs just....gave out on me. Dunno what happened there."

After cleaning and bandaging his hand, Louis doesn't leave Harry's side for the rest of the day.

When Harry dies a week later, Louis's first reaction is anger. He's proper pissed off that Harry waited until he was in the studio recording, the one time Louis left him alone, to die.

Louis walks into the cold, still house, sees Harry's still form on the couch, and just knows. And he's angry. He rushes over to Harry's side and thoroughly scolds him as if he can hear ( _"honestly, H, what a dick move, waiting until I was gone to die, you bloody twat"_ ), then the anger gives way to grief and incredible pain that Louis has never before felt the likes of, and then he's sobbing all over Harry's still-warm body.

"Babe, please, no, what am I gonna do without you? Hazza, baby, please, just wake up, I didn't even get to say goodbye....."

And that stops Louis in his tracks, and then all of a sudden he's wailing, "I didn't even get to say goodbye!" And it feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and shredded to pieces.

He doesn't remember calling Zayn, but he must have because ten minutes later Zayn is there, and he brings the paramedics with him, and they're taking Harry's body away, and all Louis can think is _I will never be the same_.

Zayn drives Louis to the hospital, and a doctor tells them to wait, so the two sit out in the waiting room for what feels like hours. Louis doesn’t understand what the doctors could be doing back there—after all, Harry is dead, gone forever, and what more can they do to his body?

Liam shows up with Nando’s, face pale as he perches beside Zayn and curls his arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Louis watches them, a resounding twinge in his heart reminding him that he will never get to do that to Harry again; never get to sit beside him, to curl his arm around his waist, to laugh with him, to love him.

His eyes are filling with tears when a nurse steps into the waiting room, glances at the trio and says, “Are you three here for Harry Styles-Tomlinson?”

“Yes, we are,” Zayn responds quickly, rising to his feet. “What’s been the reason for our wait?”

“He wasn’t dead when you brought him in, only unconscious, and we’ve managed to revive him,” she says, and there’s a sudden rip-roar noise in Louis’s ears that prevents him from clearly hearing what she says after that—he vaguely catches something about Harry, how tumor growth must have rendered him unconscious just before Louis arrived at home, but nothing else registers in Louis’s mind because Harry is alive.

“I need to see him,” he blurts, voice shaky, and the nurse nods.

“Of course. Right this way.”

Louis trails her through the winding corridors, breath catching when she stops in front of a room.

“Right in here,” she says gently, and Louis steps into the room, sees Harry lying on the bed, awake and very much alive, and breaks down in tears.

Harry blearily turns his head in Louis’s direction and murmurs, “Lou, Louis, babe, c’mere, I’m right here, couldn’t get rid of me yet.”

“You idiot,” Louis chokes out, then he flies into Harry’s arms, tugging him close, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and pressing his face into his curls. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Never,” Harry promises softly, and the two cling to each other as if they are their only lifelines.

Shortly after that, Harry has one last brain operation in a final attempt to stop the growth of the tumor in his brain. There’s a new medicine that needs to be tested, is supposed to be injected into the tumor and will stop it from growing so it can be completely removed, and Harry insists that they test it on him (because _“Lou, if it doesn’t work, I’m dead anyway, but if it does work….”_ ) and Louis grudgingly agrees to it.

The medicine works.

It works, and Louis wants to cry with the realisation that he will be able to adopt kids with Harry and grow old with Harry and do all the things with his spouse that people tend to take for granted—and if there’s anything that Louis has learned from all this, it’s that nothing is guaranteed, and he silently vows to appreciate every single moment he gets to spend with Harry and cherish it.

**Author's Note:**

> I will respond to comments after the fic exchange is complete and authors have been revealed :)


End file.
